


Strike Out to my Heart

by potterwatch



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Charity Softball, Disaster Boyfriends Steve and Bucky, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Long-Suffering Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 21:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterwatch/pseuds/potterwatch
Summary: All Sam Wilson wants is a nice, normal charity softball game. What he gets is Steve and Bucky, disaster kids from Brooklyn.





	Strike Out to my Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JulySkye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulySkye/gifts).

> Late to the game, but still down to play. The Avengers Softball-sort-of-AU no one asked for, and certainly not in the year of our lord 2019. Set vaguely in the time after Winter Solider when everyone still lived together at the friendship tower.

None of the other teams had wanted to play the Avengers because, we’ll, they’re the Avengers, so they end up facing off against some corporate office from downtown, who’s CEO had apparently calculated the press his company would receive by sharing a screen with Captain America and Iron Man, and weighed it against the inevitable shameful takedown of his employees and still liked the look of those numbers.

Tony isn’t allowed to play. It doesn’t look like he’s wearing any part of the suit, but they all remember that whole ‘watch-into-glove’ thing and seriously, who does that? Brilliant batshit inventors, that’s who. So Tony sits out, and doesn’t complain enough about it for any of them to think it’s the wrong idea. His tennis shoes do look suspiciously sleek. It’s not a huge loss. The last time the Avengers had gotten together for a “friendly game of baseball” Tony refused to do any catching, since, apparently, it was too much like being handed things, and instead had simply leaned out of the way whenever the ball came near him and spent the rest of the time distracting Rhodey. Tony does go through the regular motions of threatening to buy the stadium, the jerseys, and the apposing team, so they’ll have to let him play, but Sam’s pretty sure it’s mostly because he likes buying things, and not due a true determination to join them in a small-scale charity softball game.

Clint could use his lip-reading skills to figure out what plays the other team is planning. And he does. For like five minutes. But then a literal goddamn puppy wanders onto the field (from where?? Seriously? Where?) and he soon has to focus all of his attention to scratching it behind its ears.

Natasha takes one look at the remaining team and joins Clint in the dugout, where she is immediately introduced to his new friend. (And looking back, Sam thinks this should have told him something. But he is a stupid, stupid man.) She is more helpful than Tony (pouting) or Clint (dog), and sometimes even calls out suggestions for strategy.

Even with Tony, Clint, and Natasha sitting out, he’s still got Bucky, Steve, and Rhodney, plus the handful of athletic looking of ex-shield agents that make up the rest of the team. And, heck, two supersoilders, not too shabby, right?

Wrong. Wrong. So, very, very wrong. Because Steve by himself? General pillar of honor and community values. Bucky by himself? Moody, constrained ex-assassin. Scary as heck, but near unshakable work ethic. Steve and Bucky together? Dirty, dirty cheaters. Sam isn’t even sure they’re doing it to win, at this point. There just two kids from Brooklyn who someone made the mistake of letting on the field (That someone was Sam. He’s a fucking idiot.) and now they’re trying to cause as much trouble as possible before someone makes them leave. And it’s not even like anyone will, because it’s Captain America who’s casually sticking his foot out to trip the incoming runner. He doesn’t even have to deny it. He just blinks at the ref with his too-blue eyes and he guy actually calls the foul on the other team. 

For a second, even Sam thinks he must’ve imagined Steve’s foot flashing out in front of the runner. But then Steve surreptitiously holds a hand out behind his back and Bucky slaps it. And why are they both even on the same base to begin with? Sam glances across the field and yup, third base is empty except for the runner from the opposing team, who has both feet planted on the base and is looking around rather apologetically, like he’s not quite sure how he got there and is wondering if he should leave.

Sam blows his whistle. 

Back in the dugout he gives a speech about sportsmanship and public image and good old American baseball (it’s softball, not baseball, but he thinks the point carries). He thinks it’s quite rousing. Rhodney even nods in approval and the ex-shield agents seem rallied. But then Steve drawls back in my day we didn’t have no fancy regulations and Bucky actually snickers. No, the Winter Solider, freaking ex-assassin, shaper of a century, snickers. 

They can’t actually have the Winter Solider on their team, because he’s, well, the Winter Solider, but Steve wouldn’t play without him (something about ‘end of the line?’ Sam wasn’t really paying attention at that point). So they’ve pulled his hair back into a baseball cap and airbrushed some different detailing onto his arm. The murder one. Sam had introduced him as one of the vets from the center, and no one had paid him much mind. It turns out that that the general public doesn’t really recognize Bucky when he’s out of his murder gear. His jersey says Greg. Both he and Steve think this is fucking hilarious. 

It’s probably Sam’s fault. When Steve said he and Bucky had “baseball experience” he made the mistake of thinking that meant they’d played baseball, not swung a metal pipe around a back alley and sometimes even hit what they were aiming for. Which was mostly not a ball. More like, old bottles and each other’s heads. They’d probably called it murderball or something and pretended it was all in the spirit of the war effort.

It’s their turn up to bat, so Sam gives his team one last caution of, “remember, no superpowers,” and Rhodney and the ex-shield agents all nod solemnly, like he’s actually talking to them. Sam doesn’t know what he did to deserve them. Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, have somehow acquired three hotdogs apiece, and are seeing how fast they can eat them. Sam really doesn’t know what he did to deserve them.

Sam holds his breath when Steve steps up to bat. The National Anthem blares out over the field from the old sound system. The baseman all scurry backwards to take the spots of the outfielders, who have pressed themselves up against the back fence. 

Steve raises the bat to signal the sky over the fence at midfield, and Sam swears he can actually hearing an eagle calling majestically in the distance. Steve steps into position and pulls the bat back, the muscles along his shoulders straining against his too-tight jersey. (Sam swears they had had one in his size. Swears.) Then Steve smiles. Sam’s stomach sinks. It’s his ‘on your left’ smile. Sam knows what’s coming.

Steve, to his credit, does not use his super strength. Instead, he rockets the bat forward in an incredible show of strength, pulls up short, and barely taps the ball, before taking off running. Sam is just thinking it could’ve been worse (at least that move is legal) when Steve starts stealing basses. Literally. He rounds on first and scoops up the dusty rubber square, which is conveniently empty, as the basemen are all still standing outfield, blinking at the spot in the dirt where the softball has come to rest after a few pathetic bounces. Then he takes second. And third. And by the time he’s heading towards home both he and Bucky are laughing so hard that it’s lucky they both have reinforced lungs. 

Steve does get called out for that one. You can’t not call someone out who has literally taken part of the field. But Sam doesn’t count this as luck. Because Bucky is up to bat next and Sam doesn’t even need to see the glint in his eye to know that Bucky has taken it as his own personal mission to one-up Steve. Sam sends a silent prayer of sympathy up to both of their mothers, who surely must have formidable places in heaven for dealing with this crap. 

So Bucky takes the swing, and it’s a fine hit, not something you’d expect from a super-strength sniper with a mechanically engineered arm, but good enough. He takes off to first and the bases man plants one foot on the plate, just in case. But Bucky isn’t aiming for the base. He’s aiming for the baseman. The baseman realizes what’s happening a second before Bucky barrels into him, hooking the metal arm around his waist and hosting him up over his shoulder. He’s not tackling baseman. Sam should be so lucky. He’s stealing them. Behind him in the dugout he hears Steve yell, “BROOK-LYYYYN!” There’re not even in Brooklyn. This is a disaster.

Bucky keeps going. He has the second baseman over his other shoulder when the ref’s whistle blows, which seems to mean that Steve wins something in their weird personal game, because he has ducked behind Tony, out of view of the cameras, and raised both hands in a middle finger salute. Bucky sticks his tongue out at him. Sam wonders if it’s not too late to have them both charged as war criminals.

They lose. Of course they lose. They’re lucky don’t get fined. And they are certainly never going to be invited back to the interagency softball league. “It’s about building community, Mr. Wilson,” says the league manger, looking down his nose at Sam, when he comes over to tell them the news.

Meanwhile, Steve is smiling like he hasn’t just crushed the dreams of every small child who looks up to him as the ideal of talent and sportsmanship. He has an arm over Bucky’s shoulders, and they are carefully not looking at each other, because every time they do they start giggling like actual children. The league manager looks them over coolly.

“Captain America.” he says, then looking down at Bucky’s jersey, “Greg.” Bucky and Steve sneak glances at each other from the corner of their eyes. And their resolve cracks. 

“GREG!” Steve howls.

“Captain. America!” Bucky chokes out. Sam puts his head in his hands. He’s going to send apology notes to every single person here, isn’t he?

In the end it turns out fine. Tony, under Natasha’s direction, had coolly placed a rather formidable bet against the Avengers winning. The odds had been astronomical. They sweep the competition. Sam donates it all to charity. And refuses to talk to Bucky and Steve for a whole week.


End file.
